I Won't Give Up
by kucchi
Summary: Lovino Vargas never thought he would experience falling in love with a stranger. Soulmate & Human AU.
1. Part One

Cold.

That was the first thing I felt as soon as I opened my eyes. I've always hated this terrifying cold sensation ever since. Not only it makes my body feels like it's covered with fucking ice, it makes me feel incredibly lonely as well. And I don't think loneliness is something a person could ever endure for a long time. Well, not that I'll admit it to anyone out loud. My lips was bled out dry, even if I didn't brush my finger over to prove it. I tried to say something but my mouth betrayed my intentions, leaving me to utter incomprehensible sounds instead. I scrambled around to find my blanket but my weight fell on the ground and I ended up lying on the wooden floor.

"Fuck." I muttered bitterly, as if cursing would help ease the pain spreading in my ass. I got up a few moments later and went to the bathroom, deliberately avoiding the pile of dirty clothes scattered on the floor. Well, what can I do? I'm a messy person and cleaning up will only lead to something more disastrous. It smelled like garbage in my room as usual. Thank god, I keep the bathroom clean at least. I decided to take a slow dip in the tub first before anything else. I took off all of my clothes and turned my head to the mirror.

How unsightly.

My monstrous bed hair was another thing with all those sticking out to every direction, along with an outstanding curl I was born with, but I was referring to how bloody thin my body was. It's not that I was an anorexic shit; it's just the fact that a 24 year old grown man looks like some kind of a wimp. You know? The kind of people who gets bumped into their lockers by bigger, muscular men or those shits who gets picked on at school? Yeah, my body was as fucked up as that. It didn't help that I was lazy as fuck too, so even if I forced myself to jog or do any sort of exercise, I would find myself ditching it moments later.

I went inside the tub, which I filled up with hot water earlier, and started to soak myself. It wasn't that I really minded it. Sure, I had other stuff to worry about, like my work. My boss isn't really pleased with the articles I submitted to him lately. Saying, "It's not good enough for the audience" or really it's just somewhere along the lines of, "I swear to god I'll slit my throat the next time you even send me something". It's a wonder how I even got into that popular paper when my interview went so bad. I barely remembered anything, really, because I was so nervous that I just spat whatever I could spit. They started asking me something about my school, if I had experience joining in that annual journalism contest. I don't think they really cared about it that much. They just wanted to know if I have experience or if I ever won something or else, everything was going down to the dump. Or at least, that's what I vaguely remembered. Everything was jittered and pranced all around in my head so I stopped thinking about it, considering it was starting to give me a fucking headache. I guess it was a given, seeing that it happened like three years ago.

I scoffed and dipped my head further down the water, letting it submerge my whole face. Three whole years, and I never got a promotion or anything. Not even a single raise. I didn't even make any friends during that time because everyone avoided me. It's not my fault that I was grumpy and hard to deal with. Hell, even my own family could barely handle me. What more if it's a bunch of strangers. I suppose they are an inch closer in strangling me.

I didn't mind it anyway, whether to die or to live. I just can't feel anything _real_ lately. No, scratch that. Not lately, it's been every single day of my life. Even if I ate my favorite pasta, even if I see a beautiful _bella_ , even when I talk to people, even when people insulted me, even when people shoved me around, even when people at work pretends I don't exist, even when I see my brother or my grandpa, nothing. It's as if a massive hole was permanently residing somewhere in my heart. It's as if it was sucking any sort of emotions left inside me, carving a somewhat empty space deep inside my soul. I didn't enjoy life nor did I hated it. Sure, I go to work, I walk, I talk, I eat, like any other human beings do.

But something is always missing.

I got out of the tub and dried myself off with that plump baby blue towel. I walked towards my closet and took out a pale white turtleneck sweater, a piece of denim jeans, and a black boxers and continued to slip it to my body. I put my contacts in my eyes and blinked a bit as I watched the scenery become more sharp and vivid. I wore my favorite black and white striped jacket over it and went to the nearby bakery, locking the door out in the process. I shivered slightly as the brewing coldness kissed my cheeks. I should've worn more jacket if I knew it was going to be this cold.

I walked casually across the street, smiling so often at girls who passed by me, until I reached my destination. It was your casual bakery with all the breads and pastries they could make, but with a huge tag, "Big Daddy's Bakery" hovering over the rooftop of the shop. The name was such a tacky idea, perverted even. But I guess it really depends on how you will think of it. For me, it's just plain tacky. Lame. Nevertheless, everything they made was downright delicious and I'm totally not joking around when I declare that their products are the best one in this town. My thoughts was interrupted by the sudden growl of my stomach, earning me a few giggles from the lady in front me. What a way to humiliate myself.

I went in line and waited patiently for my turn. When it was finally my time, I told them to get me the bread from the first tray and the worker smiled at me, which I returned, as she gave me a brown paper bag. Then, I gave her the money she needed at the counter.

I raised my eyebrow questioningly at its weight, because this was way heavier than I expected. Did she slip some drugs while I wasn't looking at her? Now that made me slightly nervous.

"Oh, the extras are on me sweetheart! Since you always dropped by at our store to buy so many of our stuff." This woman, who I think is Elizabeth based on her name tag, continued to smile at me. I sighed in relief, realizing that that was just my imagination. Stupid, Lovino.

"I don't think I can take so much." I muttered, sort of surprised that she actually recognized me. I pressed the bag to her, gesturing that she should take the remaining ones but Elizabeth shook her head in a firm manner. She winked at me and said, "Think of it as a present from us and just take it."

"Fine. And thanks." I gave up on arguing and just turned my body towards the door. I left the store and took a peek at the stuff she gave me. It's a piece of cheesecake and some muffins, together with the original stuff I ordered, a tacky loaf bread. I shrugged and proceeded to walk to the park. I guess it's not bad to have something sweet once in a while.

I moved through the road quickly and bumped into someone. Considering it was a man, and not a woman, I figured it's time to unleash the wrath of my potty mouth.

"Watch it, shit face." I said to the stranger, who just frowned for a while until he suddenly beamed at me. I blinked for a while and he continued to smile at me. He tried to get my hand before I decided to make a run for it.

Whoa, wait. Did I see that right? Why was he smiling when I insulted him? That was new. Have I seen him before? No, I would remember him if he was that weird. Or someone that sexy. Fuck it, Lovino. You should think right now. Is he one of those kinky creeps? Uh, what do you call it? A masonic? Shit, no, not that word. But it's somewhere close to it. Oh yeah! I snapped my fingers as I remembered. A masochist! Those people who gets sexually aroused when their partner, or anyone in particular would insult them!

I mentally slapped myself for thinking of such profane things. Of course not, I realized in despair. No one would even think of me as something like that, not even the worst of all perverts out there. Not that I want them to get attach to me. That would be disgusting and I'd rather torture myself in watching a sponge talking for eternity than have them touch me.

I stopped by the bench and sat down. I placed the paper bag at the side and slumped over. I slowly pulled off the hems of my clothes and revealed a pale, white skin.

There's definitely a valid reason why I won't get married nor fall in love. In our age, now and even back then, hints for your soulmate is listed on your wrists. Oh, I know. Soulmates? What sort of dickhead would even believe in that? Even I didn't believe at it at first, thinking that someone just cursed the mankind, until my brother eloped with the potatofucker he calls "Soulmate". As much as I disapprove of their relationship, I figured I didn't have the heart to actually separate them from each other. Grandpa told us everything about it before when we were just little. Soulmates are technically tied up to your soul even when you weren't born. It was what the Fates decided and we cannot absolutely defy against it. Soulmates were everything.

Grandpa told me that even though you were happy with life, if you weren't together with that 'someone', you're just brooding on a heavier impact on the ground. I didn't actually know what he means by that. He told us that you would live a life, trying to find that 'someone' and you will always get frustrated every day because those itching desires are just threatening you to lunge yourself somewhere, anywhere your body will lead you to your soulmate.

"Then, why aren't we getting that sort of desire?" I remembered myself asking, looking up at him with a frown. He laughed at Feliciano, my younger brother, as he creased his eyebrows together in agreement.

"It's because-"His voice faded in my mind as I replaced it by projecting it in my mouth.

"You have to see them to actually feel the intensity." I finished up, breathing in and out as I watched the birds flying around. I suddenly felt my heart picking up, and every hair on my skin is daring to lift itself higher than it is possible. I closed my eyes, and opened it again just to confirm if I was really in reality or was I dreaming about it. I shifted a little to the side and looked sideways just to make sure no one was watching me. This was weird. I shouldn't feel like that. After all, nothing was written on my wrist. Doesn't that mean I don't have a soulmate? Grandpa said that even the slightest glimpse of them could make you go crazy. But I don't have any soulmate, I thought bitterly.

I shook my head immediately and ate a bit of the loaf bread I bought earlier. It must be because I'm hungry. I mean it's like noon already and I haven't eaten anything yet. Yes, that must be it. I tried to convince myself that was it but the consistent ache in my whole body was telling me otherwise.

I finished up everything on the bag and crumpled it. I threw it on the nearby trash can while I was sitting down because that's how mighty of a lazy ass king I was. It didn't go well as I thought it would be though. It ended up bouncing from it and dropped on the ground. I groaned a little bit, before picking it up on the ground. While my eyes were on the dirt, a pair of fancy shoes found itself before me.

"The fuck you're looking at?" I said as I looked up to a man a bit taller than me. It irked me to know that this was the man who was trying to grab me. He looked harmless though. He had no guns or whatever weapon he could use to knock me out so I decided to take a quick glance at him.

I would be fucking lying to myself if I would say he wasn't attractive. He was definitely European, with that tanned skin and a deep shade of green eyes. His hair was a bit ruffled, which reminded me of the morning bed hairs, but otherwise it formed a great combination of adorable curliness. He was wearing a formal suit which made me wonder what sort of business he attended to but I didn't let myself bite into it. He was still wearing that weird looking smile as I stepped back a little, feeling a bit embarrassed that our faces was really close to each other. He didn't seem to mind it though, which agitated me a bit for some reason.

I noticed that he was a little out of breath and was sweating a lot. My eyes widened in realization that he must have followed me here.

"Did you fucking follow me?" I demanded, sounding a bit stern than I originally intended. He frowned for a bit and stared at me for a while before shoving his hand in the bag he was holding. He brought out a card and handed it to me. I refrained from getting it but when he looked at me with that big smile, I couldn't help but comply. Fuck it. He doesn't seem to be someone bad or someone who could hurt me. Hell, he doesn't even look like he could hurt a fly even if his life depended on it.

I took the card away from him as he smiled even more. I didn't even know if I should be happy or not. I kept my menacing look, refusing to let my guard down as I analyzed the card from him. It read Antonio Fernandez Carriedo with a few scribbled numbers on the bottom. The picture there was so bad, I actually had to stop myself from cracking a smile.

I sighed before saying, "Well, what the fuck do you want?" He shrugged his shoulders and I was growing impatient. Why isn't he saying anything? He could at least say something. Anything. The least I would want is him not taking the effort to talk. Was he that lazy? Or does he not understand what I was saying? A tourist, maybe?

"Don't just stand there. Say something." I said sternly as I saw him flinch in my words. He just shook his head and looked at me. He looked like he wanted to say something but his face tells me that he's having a hard time doing so.

"If you don't have anything to say. Please don't bother me anymore."

I was about to walk away when I heard a big thud behind me. I quickly turned around and saw him on the ground. Panic filled my entire conscience and I immediately went and tried to pick him up. He was heavier than I thought so the next thing I had to do was to look around and ask someone to help me.

"Shit." I growled in displeasure, seeing that no one was around. It's in the fucking afternoon at a beautiful weekend and no one is here? What the fuck are people doing? I brought my face near to Antonio's chest, slightly relieved that he was still alive. Thank god, he just passed out.

I scanned the area for a moment before I saw a man passing by.

"Hey there!" I said, trying to get the man's attention. The first thing I noticed about him was his extraordinary white hair. He seemed young too, about my age. But his hair gave me an impression that he might be an albino. He was tall, at least a few inches from me. He was wearing a rather laid back outfit, with all the jeans and t-shirt and all. His intense red eyes fell on Antonio first as he stopped on his track to look at me next.

"Can you fucking help me? This guy passed out and I'm not enough to bring him to my house." I said, as he grinned at me. Why is everyone smiling at me today? This is so fucking weird. What have I done to receive such treatment? Is this a sign that I'm going to die today? I shook my head and brought myself to reality.

"So you're going to just bring him over to your house? Do you even know this man?" The man asked, replacing his grin with a questioning look. His voice was a bit high pitched, giving me a bit of worry. But I need someone to help me. I don't have any friends to call help for, Feliciano eloped with the potatofucker and my grandpa is in another country.

And it's not like I could just leave him here. I considered trying for an ambulance, but then I barely had any money to feed myself and the rent for the apartment was getting close. This guy doesn't look like he has money for hospital bills too. I'd rather let this stranger rest for a bit in my house and when he wakes up, I'll kick him out in a heartbeat. That brought me to the man's question again. Why do I have to help this guy? I could just leave him here and I won't have to worry about anything at all.

I gulped, looking at Antonio's face again. I don't know why but I feel like I have to help this guy. Maybe it was just my inner conscience speaking. I scoffed. Inner conscience, my ass. I might be just a little curious about him. Not that I would openly admit it out loud.

"Yeah, I do." I answered dryly, taking one of Antonio's arm over my shoulder. I got up and felt my legs wobbling under the heavy weight of this man's body.

"Look, if you don't want to help, leave it and go on your way."

"Gilbert." The albino man said, taking Antonio's other arm on his shoulder. It balanced out and we were able to carry him properly.

"Huh?" Was my very intellectual response. He smirked at me as he glanced on the road.

"You have to at least know the name of the awesome person who's saving your ass." I lifted my eyebrow at that but said nothing in response. Then, I pointed to my apartment. He seemed to understand what I meant as we walked towards it. We arrived in front of my door a few moments later and then Gilbert tore away from us.

"Are you sure you're not bringing him over just to fuck him?" Gilbert said as I felt the blood rushing over to my face.

"What the fuck?! What even made you fucking think like that?! I'm not going to- I just want to-"I snapped angrily, like I always do. Except this time, I didn't know what to say. I always had an insult to throw people off. The cold must be getting to me. Maybe that's why I'm losing my cool right now. Maybe I am a bit intrigued about him, the reason why he exerted the effort to catch up to me? But I certainly didn't bring him over to my room just to have sex with him. I didn't even know what the hell I'm doing. Surprisingly, he just seemed to smirk as he turned his back and said, "I'm done with my job here, brat."

He walked away and my stupid mouth run off on its own, "What should I do to thank you? You can't just leave and push the guilt on me. I have to repay you somehow!" Gilbert just waved his hand and headed towards the staircase, "Just come over to our bakery again!" And that was the last thing I heard from him. Bakery? Which one? Fuck, if he wants me to buy his stuff he should've at least left the address or something.

I scooted over my bed and placed Antonio there carefully, trying not to wake him up. I retreated to the couch nearby, throwing my jacket off the floor for my room was less freezing than it was outside now.

I stretched my arms for a while and watched Antonio breathe in and out consecutively. He looked so peaceful. I wonder what made him pass out. Was it too cold outside? I mean like, cold enough to knock you out? Or was it stress? Did I say something that surprised him? I felt a throbbing ache in my head and rested my body on the couch. I felt my eyes begin to weigh down and I soon found myself caving in to the temptations of sleep.

…

After what seemed to be decades to me, I woke up to the alluring scent of food. I immediately bolted from my seat and scanned my room hastily. Where's Antonio? However, the new change in my surroundings distracted me from panicking. The disgusting smell from my dirty, used clothes were gone, altogether with the actual existence of dirt. Everything was cleaned up, from my dishes, to my bed, the kitchen, the floor and even the ceiling. I was a bit confused as to why this magical thing happened in my apartment when I never even had a maid or a housekeeper of some sort. For once, it looked like an actual room. Not to mention, there was a neatly arranged table setting on the table with a big plate of pasta in the middle. There was also a bottle of wine inside a bucket full of ice. I slightly wondered why the hell are there two plates when I live alone in this apartment? Did he think that I share this room with someone?

My questions were answered when I saw a letter in the table. Most of it but eh. I picked it up and it read, "Hello there, this is Antonio. Thank you for taking care of me while I passed out. To express my gratitude, I decided to clean up your apartment, seeing as it was, well; I'm sure you know why I did so. I do hope that you wouldn't mind." I rolled my eyes at that. No one would be angry at someone who cleans up after your mess. Did Cinderella lashed out at the fairies? No? Then, you get my point.

His handwriting was surprisingly clean and neat for a man. If I didn't know who wrote this, I'd probably mistake it for a woman. He was being way too formal though and it sort of made me uncomfortable.

I continued reading his letter, "I apologize for the ruckus I dropped on you earlier. I merely wanted to know your name but it seemed that my body was acting before I even know it. If it would be alright, do you mind meeting up again for dinner today at Reclony's? Let's say, around 7 pm? I'm willing to pay for your share, seeing as I am the one who invited you. Please send me a message in the number below if you will comply. Thank you and I am thrilled to see you again."

I placed the letter on the table again, dropping my head down as well. I can already feel my heart lunging outside of my ribcage. I think, _I think,_ a guy just asked me out. And a hot one at that.

Crystal beads of sweat are starting to flow down my face and I decided to walk towards my bed, only to trip on the way there. I cursed at no one in particular as I sat up. Now, this was weird. A guy asking another guy out? Isn't that morally wrong? Not that I was a die-hard Christian or anything but I never really thought about dating a man before. To hell with the concept of dating. I never dated before. I flirted with girls but it never went further than that.

I breathed heavily, messing my hair up. How does that even go? I can't even bring flowers because, you know, he's a guy. Should I bring something manly? I shook my head and began to blink. When did I even say I'm going to go? Oh fucking cheese dip, I'm actually considering this? I knew Feliciano was gay but me?

Okay, I'm going to admit. I do love beautiful girls, I would even stop walking just to flirt with them, to tell them how beautiful they are. Girls deserve to be complimented by other people. They're the precious gemstone in this stupid world. And I do know a handsome person when I see them and Antonio definitely belongs to their breed. This was so frustrating. Should I accept or not? Antonio seemed to be a good person, even at first glance you can see the sunshine radiating from him. He even cleaned up my room, which is a big point to me since I can't even do something as to wash the dishes. I broke most of my dishes before and I'm not going to risk it again. I guess he's trying to make up for his mistake? For what? For someone like me? That's fucking impossible.

"Fuck it. I'm just going to get over it." I mumbled to myself, punching the numbers on my phone. I called his number and brought the phone over to my ear. It's been ringing for a while before he picked up.

"Hello?" I said, growing a little anxious that maybe it was someone else. But I clearly remembered his number and I made sure to check the numbers carefully before dialing it.

"It's Lovino. The guy you met in the park today. Why the fuck should I even go to dinner with you? I'm not going." I heard a little shuffling sound at the end before it hang up. Can he get even ruder?

 _Okay. Let me know when you want to. : )_

I felt a little guilty about doing this but nothing is going to change my mind no matter what. I'm Lovino Vargas for god's sake. And he doesn't show any kind of kindness to anyone. Even if he's someone who looks adorably cute and sexy for a man.

Fuck it, I need a drink.

I stood up and looked at his message again, raising my eyebrow at the fact that there was more. Why did he even put spaces below? That's so stupid. I dragged my finger down on my phone, only to drop it in embarrassment.

 _But I'm not giving up on you_.

Is he fucking retarded? No means fucking no, damn it! Nevertheless, I felt my face heating up once again and I felt restless. I want to smack myself in the forehead several times until I develop a concussion. Like, seriously? Why the fuck would I get flustered over someone I barely know?

 _But you can get to know each other._

Fuck you, inner mind. You're not going to break my history of non-dating shit. But then, my mind wandered to Feliciano. He was the perfect little brother and he was everything I wanted to be. He was always smiling. Sometimes I wondered if he would break his jaw someday by smiling too much. I can't even flash a genuine smile to anyone, even to my own family. He was talented, far more talented than me. He easily got a great job after graduating college because oh no, who wouldn't love such a young, talented, smart, kind and everyfuckingshit man?

I didn't hate him, even if I wanted to. God, hating him would be much easier. I mean, I lash out at him every time but I never ever hated him for being who he is. I'm still his big brother in the end. And I would do everything in my power to protect him, a feat that my parents couldn't do because they died. That brings me to that stupid potato bastard Feliciano brought home like two years ago.

If looks could kill, I would've slaughtered that big lump of muscles. He was all muscles, seriously. And oh god, he was looking at Feliciano like he was planning on taking him right there in front of me. Spare me from that thought, okay. Well, that was when my younger brother was inside the room. The moment he left, I pinned him with the most menacing glare I could muster. I gave him the 'talk' and one way or another, he passed it. After a few couple months, of course. I'm Lovino, bitch. I don't give away my brother easily. He had to earn it.

I jumped at the sound of the bells ringing in my front door, forcibly cutting me off from my own thoughts. I scurried on the way to it and then, I opened the door.

Antonio is standing right in front of my door with his usual smile. He was no longer wearing his suit, but instead he wore a blue jacket with a hood, together with his denim jeans. His hair was a bit brushed to the side, giving a bit more highlight to his green eyes. His lips were curled upwards as he brought my attention to the cardboard he's holding.

'Will you have dinner with me?'

Goddamn, he is so stubborn. I rolled my eyes and scanned him again from head to toe. His appearance didn't seem to give off the I'm-going-to-a-fancy-restaurant which brought me to another fucking question.

"Where?" I said while he pointed at the table inside my room. So that's why there were two plates. He probably figured that I would reject him so he brought dinner to my apartment instead. Great, just fucking great. What a sly fucker.

"How can you even convince me to have dinner with you? We just met today, if your tiny stupid head doesn't fucking know."

He blinked for a while before reaching out to his bag. He brought out a piece of paper and handed it to me. Like, a stupid paper could even convince me to do anything. I looked at the paper and instantly gasped. I looked to him as my eyes widened in surprise, making him smile even more.

"Why the fuck do you have Laura Poitras' signature?!" I almost shouted but I remembered to keep my voice low because the last time I shouted, my neighbors weren't _exactly_ pleased with it.

He shrugged and moved over behind me. I followed after him and closed the door. If this was the Lovino one minute ago, he might have shoved Antonio out, but man, he's good. He's good enough to transform hate into might not hate. There really is a thin line between hate and like. He must have noticed that I have the documentaries she made ever since while he was cleaning. Everything she makes are fucking epic and I respect her so much. Being an artist, a filmmaker and a journalist? Now, _that's_ a woman to bow down to.

I couldn't hide the happy expression I have right now. I immediately went to my room and emptied the box I kept. I placed it inside carefully and then, went to the kitchen wherein Antonio was already seated. He looked proud on what he did as he watch me sat down on the other end. I turned on the radio behind me and let the music fill in the silence while we ate the food he made.

Granted, it was a bit cold now, considering of the amount of time he left it but it was still delicious. And that was saying a lot because being an Italian? It was in our blood to cook pasta and worship tomatoes. I twirled the noodles in the plate, glancing at Antonio often. He poured wine into the cups in the table as I muttered a simple thanks.

"How about we play 20 questions?" He suddenly looked up, his face drawn into an expression of confusion.

"It's a game where we ask each other questions per turn. It's one of the simplest ways to get to know each other. You want that, right?" I asked, secretly pleading that he won't reject my offer. The awkwardness in this room is killing me, even if he's mute I somehow want to converse with him one way or another. Plus, I'm doing him a favor by getting to know each other, right?

He dove his hand into his pocket and brought out his phone. A long sleek Samsung Galaxy. Wow, maybe he had more money than I pegged him to be. He typed something there and when looked sort of satisfied, he showed it to me.

"Sure thing! What's your favorite color?"

"Color? Seriously? Out of everything you could have asked, my favorite color?" I deadpanned, staring at him like he wasn't there. He frowned a bit at my reply before he typed something on his phone again.

"I want to know everything about you."

My face flushed at his response as I tore my eyes away from him, suddenly gaining interest on the floor. I could feel his smile even when I don't look at him. I just want to punch him for being so…stupid?

I shook my head and casted him a glare, trying to hide away the blush creeping in my face. He seemed to notice that and smiled even more.

"Red. You?"

"Yellow. Why?"

I shrugged, drinking a small portion of wine from the cup.

"It's the same color as a tomato that's why. How did you even know I like tomatoes and pasta?" I asked, making him look at me with a sly smile.

"I saw your album. From the looks of it, the background was from Italy and Italian men never stray away from those holy trinity." He admitted, making me arch an eyebrow. How did he even get ahold of my album? Maybe he found it while cleaning. Some people seemed to be bothered or even embarrassed when their friends look at their photo album. I don't really care about that. I am cute as fuck even as a toddler swinging his butt at everyone.

"Holy trinity?" I asked, grabbing the napkin on the table to wipe away the ketchup from my face.

"Tomatoes, girls and pasta." I couldn't resist the smile spreading on my face while drinking everything from the cup.

"Do you pass out often? Like, earlier in the afternoon?" I asked, looking at him warily. He seemed to look dejected for a bit before he showed me, "It's a side effect of the medicine I'm taking."

"Oh." Was the only thing I could say to him. I sure have a talent for poking at the most sensitive subject. Damn it. He typed something on his phone again and flashed it before my eyes again.

"I think you're beautiful." I scoffed while Antonio punched the keyboard on his phone again.

"I'm a man for your information. If you didn't know, beautiful is an adjective used for girls."

"Ah, but I will use beautiful to you because that's what I first thought when I met you." My face flushed and I glared at him.

"Are you stupid?" Antonio only casted a ginger smile at me.

"Why aren't you using your voice to talk to me?" I asked honestly but as soon as it left my mouth, I instantly regretted saying that. The color on his face instantly drained away and his smile faded into a frown. He looked down on the floor, hesitating for a little while before he brought his head up to level mine.

"I'm mute." He mouthed as his face contorted in a depressing smile, like he was forcing himself to do so. A sharp piercing guilt tore away any sort of fleeting emotions in my heart. I was shocked, to the point that this fact was truly disturbing. I'm tempted to ask what happened or when did it happen but the look on his face broke my intention to do so.

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing I could say. It was the only thing I could think of saying. He shook his head, probably saying it was okay but what was done was done. The air was thick with silence and it was slowly choking me.

Antonio seemed to notice my discomfort as he leaned closer and placed his hand on my hair. It was a gesture that's apparently made for children for them to stop crying but I didn't know that it actually worked. I felt relaxed, still feeling a bit guilty, but it was better than earlier. I couldn't help but feel mocked though, like he was treating me like a child.

"Do you take siestas often?"

I hummed for a little bit before saying, "As much as my job allows me to, I guess. I sleep naked by the way so you better avoid coming here in the afternoon."

Antonio blushed as he stood up, making me smirk and then, he gathered our plates together. I joined him in cleaning up and he helped me wash the dishes in silence. He was probably thinking of questions to ask me and he obviously can't use his phone while soaking the dishes.

We 'talked' for a while after we settled down on the couch. I learned things about him, most of it was hardly anything specific or personal though. I knew that he painted for a living, where his hometown was before he moved out, how he is the only child in the family, how he is a Spaniard trying to make the best out of his life here in New York but something about his answers tells me that he didn't want me to dive into anything personal yet. I rebutted with the same type of proposal as well, seeing as I want him to delve himself in his own creation.

I didn't mind that we were communicating this way. Honestly, it was refreshing. Mostly because it was new and the others…Ah, let's just say that it's interesting in its own way.

I noticed something odd in his behavior though. He won't stop twirling his thumbs over and over during idle. I didn't bring it up because I didn't want to prod on another sensitive topic, again. So I decided to let it go.

He was typing something again before he leaned over, invading my personal space and showed it to me.

"Can I kiss you?"

I didn't know how to react at first.

It was suddenly hard to breathe in this room. I could feel his breathing, in and out consecutively, and how he touched his forehead onto mine, like he was waiting impatiently for my answer.

I never experienced anything like this before. He was a person I just met today. He was barely close to being an acquaintance of mine, a stranger even. But something in his eyes told me not to shy away from his approach. It might be direct but at least he was being straightforward about it, a personality that I don't exactly hate.

My body soon betrayed any sort of thoughts welling up inside my mind as I dove in front of him and gave him the best kiss I could do. Of course, my whole body was heating up from the embarrassment crawling in my skin but it felt…right somehow. Maybe it was okay. Maybe it would be okay to risk myself falling in love. Maybe everything would be just fine.

 _But he can't speak._

I broke the kiss first and ended up falling in my ground. My eyes widened in realization on what I had just done. Tears started falling from eyes as I aggressively tried to wipe it away, wishing it would just fucking stop. I don't even know why I am crying. I don't even know why my heart felt so heavy, like it was constricted by something so tight. It felt like it was ripping me apart and then I reached up to touch something. It felt soft. His chestnut hair was soft. Something about it was mildly calming the rage pouring out of me.

It wasn't _okay._ That was the most indirect confession I've ever heard. It was stupid, lame and was very contradicting to what I've always thought. Why would someone even like someone like _me_? It was stupid. Antonio is stupid. I'm stupid. Everything in this fucking world is stupid.

But what was truly unexpected was my affection for him. He didn't say anything, he didn't do anything romantic like saying 'I'll be here for you forever' or that 'I'm willing to do anything for you', he couldn't even _say_ anything. I don't even know what he did to make me feel this way. Vulnerable, ashamed and unstable.

I'm alarmed about everything going on right now but the most surprising thing was my strong desire to hear him speak. I didn't know that such a simple thing like talking, could mean so much to me right now.

Then, there were blurry images of Antonio on the couch while writing something on the cardboard. Shit, my contacts must have fell down but I couldn't really care less anymore.

"Please get out." I hear my voice say. I don't want anyone to see me crying, even if he's the sweetest person I've ever met. I don't want him to kiss my tears away. I don't want him to tell everything's going to be fine when it's not. Because I'm not fine. Nothing has ever been fine. This was just a translucent dream. I would soon forget about him as he is going to forget about me. Even if he, on a certain degree, remember me, I would just be that stupid brat he met and spat him enough curses to make him cringe.

I hate myself so much. If only I got even a tiny portion of Feliciano's sweetness, he might have a better company right now. If only I was as nice as Feliciano, then he might not look as hurt as he did right now. If only…I laughed bitterly as Antonio proceeded to go out of the room.

Everything was a fucking dream from the start.


	2. Part Two

It was business as usual.

I was punching on the keyboards, doing a last minute check before emailing it at my boss. My work was doing okay and everything went back the way it is, except for one thing.

I grumbled, reaching out to get my coffee. I sipped a few portion of it before laying it down where it came from. I pressed enter and sent it to my boss. I stretched my arms as I leaned back on my chair, satisfied at the article I wrote.

I stood up and wandered around my living room, finally settling on the couch. My eyes flew to the cardboard nearby and a haughty whip of nostalgia came over to me.

Antonio never came back.

He said he would, based on the cardboard he wrote before he went out of the apartment. Would you call me a fool for believing in it? Probably, yes. I am fucking stupid. I am stupid enough to believe in those lies.

And yes, another thing to feel stupid for is the fact that there's a tiny hope that maybe, _maybe_ , Antonio is my soulmate. Out of all the gazillion people in the world, my heart reached out for him. I hopelessly believe that he would come back, like he said he would.

I usually kept myself busy to provide enough distraction because every time that my mind is hollow, my mind would find itself on Antonio. The way he smiled at me, the way he pouted, the way he approached me that day like a lost little puppy.

A small smile spread itself on my lips at the memory.

It might have only happened in a span of twenty four hours but as the days passed by in a blur, I managed to treasure each moment unexpectedly. I didn't even fathom that such a simple interaction would crumple my heart so much.

I looked at the box with the signature he gave me a year ago. It has been a year since I met a stupid man named Antonio. And ever since, my life has been one hell of a fucking train wreck. During the first few weeks, I was in the stage of self-loathing and a lot of drinking and shitty hangovers. The following weeks was all about getting my ass back to work and after that, it was just a huge pile of crap of finding out where he is. I still am. People may call it desperate or even malicious to some extent, but I want to see him. I _have_ to find him.

I couldn't reach him in his phone, saying that this stupid fucking number is already unavailable. I managed to locate where he was staying at but the landlord said that he already left a few days after our encounter.

It was my fault that he left. I'm not stupid. I know that. But leaving without even telling me where he went? Now, that's bullshit.

Somewhere last month, I found out where his studio was, the place where he usually paints at. I drove there as fast as I could and much to my expectations, the room was completely deserted. I could still pick up the strong scents of acrylics and oil paints but it had no sense of life anymore. The rays of sunshine was peeking out from the tiny cracks in the ceiling. The ground managed to croak out a high-pitched screeching every time I dared to move and that one plain wooden chair is the only furniture left in this room. Everything felt mildly excruciating to me. The loneliness wasn't something that I could endure, nor would anyone do. The huge gap in my heart was threatening to widen up more as I felt my lungs churn horribly. I quickly went to the unused bathroom nearby and heaved everything I had for breakfast.

Since then, I didn't have any major leads.

I took off my glasses and placed it on my lap. I reached up to pinch the bridge of my nose in order to lessen the pain growing dangerously across my forehead. I winced a little as I heard my phone blasting out a muffled 'I will survive!', vibrating violently in my pocket. I picked it up and hovered my face to my phone exhaustingly.

"Seriously, you should change your ringtone. It hurts my ears."

A loud laugh immediately entered my ears as I took the phone away from me before it could deal any serious damage.

"Do you even hear yourself? That's the best song ever!"

"Yeah, over my deathbed. Anyway, why did you call?" I demanded, not exactly feeling hyped in hearing Gilbert's voice in the afternoon right after I finished work.

I found out that Gilbert was the husband of Elizabeth from the bakery in front of our apartment roughly a few days after Antonio left. The world _is_ a small place and what makes it even smaller is the fact that Antonio was Gilbert's friend back in high school. It turns out that he was still the big goof he is back then, and he _talked_ like a normal person which was…weird because he told me that he was mute. I have so many questions in mind but the person in charge of answering them isn't here so I'm not going to plunge myself in a state of longing again.

"Well, I got these tickets for an art exhibit from prodigies all over the world! Liz isn't interested at all, neither am I so I was wondering if you could go for me."  
" You do know that I'm not much of an art lover as well, right?" I heard a bit of scoffing on the other end of the line but I chose to ignore it.

"You need to get out of the room sometimes, kiddo. Maybe going to this event would help."  
" You do know that Antonio does painting for a living, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then, why the fuck are you bringing me to a place that's going to remind me of him?" I gave a long exasperated sigh as I threw the walls a glare they didn't deserve. It was meant for this annoying guy I'm talking with but seeing as his physical form isn't there, I needed a replacement to practice with.

"That's exactly why I'm letting you go here. Look, you can't just live your life avoiding any specs of Antonio. He might have left without telling you anything but he must have a reason for doing so. And besides, you need to have some fun from time to time." Gilbert said in a disturbingly serious tone. I absolutely hate it when he uses that tone. Take it from me, but he's acting like an annoying mom I never had. And I also hate it when everything he says is right. Damn it.

"Does the definition of fun rhymes with art exhibits?" I challenged, finding it oddly amusing to make him cave to me.

"But you can point at their works and demand why a few shits of strokes could evoke so much money!"

I openly laughed at that and I could hear him doing the same.

"If I'm going down, I'm dragging you down with me."

"Are you telling me that I should go with you or you won't go at all?"

"Wow, I didn't know that potatoes could understand what I'm saying."

"Hey, that's offensive!" Gilbert shouted as I painfully stifled my laugh from being heard.

"Anyway, I'm going to pick you up tomorrow at 6pm, aye? Sounds good?"

"This is sounding like a fucking date more and more, Mr. Beilschmidt." I jokingly said and I swear, I could see him paling like a ghost at the thought of us dating. It was really amusing to see his reactions that I couldn't help but throw him a bunch of teasing.

"Ew, my awesome ass already has an owner! It belongs to my one and only, the ever-loving-pan-hitter, Elizabe-" I heard a huge sound of a metal hitting what seems to be Gilbert's head as the phone seems to be picked up by someone which I assume is Liz.

"I'm so sorry about that, Lovi! This dickhead doesn't seem to realize that I was in the living room and kept on spouting such incredible lies behind my back!" Elizabeth said in such a sweet tone, you wouldn't believe that she's actually stronger than most men I've met.

"Nah, that's fine. Remind me to burn his pants next time."

"Oh, okay, pumpkin! See you later!"

I hanged up before she could and then I dragged myself to my bed. It was a long, tiring day and I deserve to have a moment of peace for a while.

…

I straightened up my tie and arranged my vests so that I could look more presentable. I took a quick look of myself in the mirror, combing my hair up and down in a repeated manner. I'm not really looking forward to this but I'm not stupid enough to present myself to a respectable crowd in a shameful attire. I wore the best outfit I could gather from my wardrobe and styled myself in an appearance that would make even the gods bow down to me.

I looked at the watch from my wrist and it read 6:33 pm. That stupid shit is running late, again. I should've been the one to grab his ass out of his goddamn house.

I went to their store after grabbing my wallet and phone. I turned their doorknob around the back entrance and went to Gilbert's door. I kicked the door open and found myself staring at a guy in his lame Donald duck boxers. He had clothes in his hand but dropped it on the floor when he saw me as he screamed a very, very _manly_ scream. Let's just say his high-pitched scream was manly in order to preserve whatever pride he has.

"It's 6:30, shithead. We're late to the exhibit." He regained his composure and quickly went to put on his pants and shirt, muttering many discrepancies I'd rather not hear. He was embarrassed, that one thing I was keenly sure about. The tips of his ears was red and that just further proved my theory while I snickered a bit.

"I know, goddamn it. I just woke up and I went for a quick shower before you came in and saw my glorious body in its hideous glory."

I scoffed.

"We better get going now. And by the way, nothing about your scrawny body even makes me drool. It's not worth the tiny drops of water from my mouth."

I made my way out of his room before I could hear the rest of his annoying jabs to get back at me and went to their front door which is also where their bakery was placed. Elizabeth was busy taking care of the orders from their customers so I just leaned on the wall while waiting for Gilbert. I didn't want to interrupt her while she's working. She really hates that and I'm not really up to waking up the beast beneath that sweet appearance.

Gilbert came out a few minutes later and we immediately headed to the Brooklyn Museum.

As soon as we came in, our mouth dropped on its own. Starting everything off, a rich red carped was laid everywhere in the room. Everything was kept simple, with all the clear white paints on the wall, but the massive amount of canvasses truly held a ground on its own. We came here with the intention of poking fun of at the paintings but this, all of these are just so magnificent that it blew away everything we had in mind. It didn't help that this place was reeking with the strong scent of mixed paints all over too. The music was also terrific. Well, it has to be because Beethoven is one good shit right there.

We continued to travel along the corridors but goddamn, my mouth was still open. Gilbert nudged his elbow against my shoulder as I smacked it away as soon as I could.

"If I didn't bring you here, you wouldn't have seen all of these beauties."

"Says the person who didn't want to come here at first."

I ignored his reply and went to the small throng of crowds gathering around a certain painting. There were too many heads and I couldn't completely see what was in there. It ticked me a little bit but if I waited for a while, they might disperse on their own.

And they did so I took this chance to steer myself towards the artwork in order to get a clearer version on what they are looking at.

One look at this painting suddenly made my heart clench. Most of the colors were mute, giving emphasis to the heart etched right in the middle. Each stroke seemed to execute a very strong sense of despair, as it was drawn imperfectly in volatile waves. The heart was visibly glowing within all of those vibrant colors smashed together to form the most controversial artwork I've ever seen.

I looked down to read the title of this artwork and my eyes widened immediately.

"Soulmates by Antonio Fernandez Carriedo"

I quickly searched the crowd for Gilbert and I run over to him as fast as I possibly could. I dragged him out of that place, ignoring all of the protests he's making. He finally had enough of it as he got himself out of my arm and threw me a glare.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gilbert demanded, his red eyes glowing fiercer every second we're talking. But I didn't have time for that as I breathed heavily before saying, "Antonio's been there."

"What?"

"Did you not hear me, knucklehead? One of his paintings is posted there. We're fucking going to their lounge right now, you shit."

His eyes widened even more as he casted me a do-you-even-know-what-the-fuck-you-are-saying look. I rolled my eyes and gave him an even harsh glare.

"How are you going to even get inside?!"

I closed my eyes as I tried to calm myself down. If both of us blew our patience off, we're going to attract the attention of the guard and in the worst case situation? They're going to kick us out.

"Look," I said, taking out my ID card from work," I can use my work as a journalist as an excuse to get right past to the guards. I'm going to say that I'm here for an interview in one of these artists and I'll find him and talk to him."

"And then what?" Gilbert asked, making me arch an eyebrow at his silly question.

"Then, I'll fucking talk to him? What do you want me to do? Avoid him? Are you trying to stop a guy who's been trying everything he has to find this one stupid fucking shit stain for one year and when he's right there inside, you're just going to interfere?" I was tempted to shout. I really am but I knew better than to get myself in trouble.

My message seemed to get through Gilbert as he stared at me for a while before nodding hesitantly.

"Okay, fine. Take care of yourself. You always stir up trouble somehow so if you ever find yourself in a big pinch, fucking call me or text me. If I heard you going to jail for something, I'm going to kick your ass."

"Yes, mommy. That was very convincing. Where's my bedtime story?" I deadpanned, making his expression even sourer.

"Wait for me in the parking and if I don't come back in thirty minutes without updating you anything, go inside and find me."

I went inside the hall once again and looked at the map beside the door to find the location where the artists resides. I memorized the path and proceeded to walk towards it. I held my chin up high and strode across the corridor with confidence. I stopped at the desk with a lady who seemed to be around at my age. She looked up at me and asked, "What can I do for you, sir?"

I flashed my card to her and it instantly made her eyes widen. Thank god, the newspaper I work for is popular.

"I'm here to interview some of the artists for an article I'm writing right now. Could I get a pass?" I asked with the sweetest tone I could afford as I winked at her. I need to charm this lady in order to get inside and if it includes me flirting, well fuck it, I'm doing it.

She blushed and then went inside of the drawers. She then took out one of the card containing the word 'PASS' as she smiled at me.

"I'll give it to you if you take me out for dinner." She said in an alluring manner, leaning against the table. She did this in order to show me her breasts. Probably in an attempt to seduce me. Goddamn, this might have been the first time I ever disliked a woman.

"I'll provide you with the details when I'm finished with my work, beautiful."

Thankfully, she seemed satisfied with my answer as I took the card away from her and immediately went inside. I'll never take her to dinner, what the fuck. I'm here for one purpose only. And that's to see Antonio.

The place was identical to the one in the front. It was so white, I swear it could blind people. A little bit of the music was heard even here. I passed by some people who seemed to be a staff but they paid me no heed. I inspected the surroundings and I noticed that several doors went side by side with nameplates on it. One door in particular took away all of my attention and I immediately went to it.

I breathed everything I could and exhaled.

This was it.

I wasn't ready to see him again but I sure as hell can't leave now when he's right there on the other side of the door.

I knocked on the door thrice and when no one responded, I opened the door.

I stepped inside and even the pristine and opulent environment didn't manage to distract me as I found myself staring at the back of Antonio. He was staring outside and he didn't seem to notice that I entered the room. I accidentally knocked out the bucket in the desk and he immediately turned around.

As soon as he saw me, I instantly found myself caught inside his arms. Our bodies were pressed together and his arm was wrapped around my waist while the other was playing around with my hair. My chin rested on his shoulder while his rested on my head as I precariously hugged him in return. I smiled a small smile. The bastard smelled like tomatoes and he was sweating like crazy. My heart was beating fast and I could tell that he had the same thing going on too.

Then, I remember all of the agitation I felt the day he left me hanging. All of these pent-up anger is brewing away my entire conscience. Before I knew it, I detached myself from him and punched him as hard as I could, making him gasp and cough blood on the floor.

"Where the fuck did you go, you shit?" I said venomously, glaring at him like it was the only thing I could do right now. My breathing was constricted and I had trouble keeping my tears at bay. The room suddenly reeked of blood but I continued to ignore it. He didn't say anything nor did he even move. He just looked down on the floor, tears springing out from his eyes.

Antonio looked extremely guilty as he wiped off the blood coming out from his mouth. He sat up but he had trouble in doing so. I considered helping him, but staying angry would disperse as soon as I do that.

I was about to leave but I suddenly felt a burning sensation eluding from my wrist as I dropped on the ground. Or was about to before Antonio caught me before I did. Antonio held me against his chest as he went and called an ambulance. I looked up to see Antonio's face crumpling with worry. Everything was becoming hazy and even Antonio's face is wavering. Everything seemed so distant and I was soon engulfed in a thick, heavy protruding darkness.

…

I tried to open my eyes but even when it was closed, the brightness in the room was too much for me to handle so I continued playing asleep. I could hear faint voices in the room, one of which I recognized was Gilbert and the other was…Antonio's?

Why is he talking? Wasn't he mute? Or had he been lying to me?

"Are you fucking telling me that he passed out on his own?!" Gilbert's voice thundered all over the room and gave me a slight headache. Liz seemed to be there as well, hushing Gilbert to calm down.

"I told you this over and over again, Gil. That's what happened." Antonio said calmly, but I could tell that his voice was trembling slightly.

"Don't you dare Gil me right now, Antonio. You don't even know what happened to him when you fucking went off without any warnings. You broke his heart, Toni. He was practically lifeless when we found him in the road! What do you say for that, huh?"

Ah great, that one. That's one of the memories I'd rather forget. It was a silly drunken night, really. I went to the nearest pub and drank myself to the point where I almost killed myself from hating myself so much. It was like 2am in the freaking freezing morning and there was truck passing over. I thought it would be nice to get hit by an actual vehicle and spend the rest of my life in the hospital or in the coffin. Right before I was about to run into the path it's going through, Gil stopped me and bam! I got out alive.

"You're not the one I should be explaining everything to, _Gilbert._ I want to tell _him_ and he _deserve_ to before anyone else and I won't explain myself to you until I do." Antonio replied with a stubborn persistence.

I blinked slowly, allowing myself to adjust to the light in the room. I sat up, letting my tired body shift into an upright position. How amusing that this simple gesture could lead all of the guests right next to me.

"The fuck you're doing here?" I asked Antonio, making him shift uncomfortably. Gilbert threw him a glare that might have send, get-the-fuck-out message but whatever it is, Antonio stayed right where he is.

"How are you feeling?" Liz asked slowly, trying not to accidentally make me uncomfortable. But her being really ginger around me was very uncomfortable as I looked at everyone in the room. They all look tired, most especially Antonio. There was bags under his eyes, though his clothes were different, his smell tells me otherwise. His eyes was clouded with worry and he looked restless. I noticed that he had a bandage on his right cheek, right where I punched him.

I didn't feel guilty about what I did. I truly am. This jerk got what he deserved.

"How many days have I been out?" I asked no one in particular.

"This is the fifth day." Gilbert said, looking a bit solemn than he usually is. Even Gilbert was taken aback by my situation. Was my condition that bad?

"Shit, I have to pee." I suddenly said, feeling the rush in my pants. Gilbert cracked a smile as Antonio hovered over and helped me down. I asked Gilbert where it is and he pointed out on the hall, then I should turn left. I dragged the IV with me to the bathroom but stopped when I sensed someone was behind me.

"You know, peeing is usually preferred to be done alone. And I fucking don't want you to come with me." I said, turning around to see Antonio with an expression that strongly contrasts to the image I've had for him all this time. He looked tired, that much I could tell from the moment I woke.

He raked a hand through his hair and glanced sideways.

"I'm sorry…I was just-"

"Worried?" I finished it up for him as he nodded. I scoffed. Yeah, of course.

"The doctors said you passed out because of malnutrition, overworking and lack of sleep." Antonio said, making me blink a bit. I swallowed, thinking of thousands of things that I should reply with but all of those were washed out with the intense feeling in my groin.

"No shit. Before anything else, I'm going to pee. I might flood the floor with my fluid and I'm sure the hospital won't be pleased with it. Unless you want to clean up. Then, fine."

He seemed to be not against it as I went to the bathroom and did what I had to do. I washed my hands thoroughly and went out to see Antonio leaning against the window pane. He looked up and when he saw me, his face was contorted with relief. I don't think anything can happen while I'm taking a piss. Goddamn, what do they even think of me.

Antonio didn't say anything as we went back to the room wherein Gilbert and Liz was busy talking. They relaxed as soon as they saw me.

"They just told us that you can leave in an hour after they do the final check up on you." Liz said, offering me to hold her hand to get up on the bed. I took it, seeing as there wasn't really much harm on it.

The nurse came by a few moments later and ushered them out because they will now conduct the final checking. They thought that having guests over would stress and wear me out so they had to leave.

An hour and a half later, I'm now wearing the same clothes I had a few days ago and had the IV pulled out from my hand. The staff wanted to help me change my clothes and I let them, probably because I was still feeling kind of drowsy from the medicine I took a few minutes earlier. They also offered me a wheelchair in going down the elevator but I refused their service. I could make it out on my own without any help from others.

I went out from the room and saw Gilbert not too far from where I reside, bringing out money from his wallet. I padded over to him and stopped his hand before he could hand it over to the cashier.

"Why the hell are you paying, Gil?" I asked him, making him shrug indifferently.

"For you?" He offered, scratching the itch from his right ear.

"Well, I don't need it. I just need my wallet and I'll do it myself." I said, searching inside my bag. Gilbert tried to pay for it again but I snarled at him so he stopped. When my fingers brushed over to a familiar leather material, I brought it out and asked the man about the price. I paid him the exact amount and left Gil standing beside the cashier. He wasn't satisfied with it but he had to deal with it. I don't want him to save my ass every time even if it's about financial issues.

"Where are the others?" I asked Gil, who I am sure of that is walking right behind me.

"Liz went home to take care of the bakery and Antonio's probably on the entrance already." Gilbert replied, saying Antonio's name with hatred. I stopped on my tracks and looked at him.

"Why are you guys even fighting?"

Reaching out to his neck, he glanced sideways and gave me the silent treatment. I gave out a small huff and that made him snap his head to me.

"He was all bruised and you passed out with your wrists heating up like crazy. I'm sure he did something because a soulmate's hints isn't just going to pop out."

As soon as he said that, I reached down to my sleeve and pulled it up. Sure enough, there was a variety amount of phrases written there now.

'I love tomatoes!', 'I'm scared', 'Just another five minutes, please!', 'I don't want to talk' and many others were written in my wrist. The last phrase that I read evoked so much emotion in me that I didn't even know it was possible to have several emotions launching in my entire body all at the same time.

'I think you're beautiful.'

I looked up at Gil and he only smiled at me.

The next thing I knew, I was going down on the elevator and rang the first floor impatiently. The people inside looked at me weirdly but I ignored everything. All I wanted to do right now was to check if this was true. If it wasn't a dream after all. If I could prove everyone wrong and most especially, prove myself wrong.

The door opened up and I trotted as fast as I could across the hall and then, I found him standing outside of the hospital. The sunshine was burning my eyes but that didn't stop me at appraising him from head to toe. He wore a different set of clothes now, a beanie, a turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans that hugged his slender figure. The cold wind was passing by and made his silky brown hair soar out a little. His nose was sharp, a bit crooked on the side but it might be one of the most prominent features of his face; aside from his eyes anyway. It was lit with an unusual shade of green. It was captivating and enchanting at the same time.

My breathing was unstable, mostly because I half-assed run in the big ass hallway but aside from everything else? I was feeling ecstatic.

Antonio looked up at me the same way he did the first time we met. He was smiling, that gave me so much relief. He looked like he already forgave me, another thing to be thankful for.

I scooped his hand up and looked at his wrist expectantly.

Maybe this wasn't a dream after all.


	3. Extras (1)

As an artist, I know that everything is imperfect. Nothing could ever be perfect.

But that didn't stop me from achieving whatever is perfect.

I've always been obsessed with the idea of perfection, like it was something mythological, something that was out of reach. I organized everything I had into an alphabetical order, the day I bought them or by the way it feels _right_. Never had there been a day when there was a mess in my room or to our household with me around.

I've always hated my voice.

It was a part of me that I hated so much. At first, it was okay, because I thought my mom was just being paranoid as usual. Things started to go bad when she started to hit me, gnashing away every sort of pride I had left.

She purposely did it the first time. She was drunk, got laid, and went home to have more beer. Then, she had fun. I thought she fell asleep so I tried to cover her up with some blankets in the living room when she hit my arm hard with the bottle.

The glass exploded when it made contact with my limbs and I screeched, crying at the intense pain as she started to laugh. Blood was starting to drip down my arm and from my face when the glass shards passed by it. I was starting to panic as I scrambled away only to cry harder when she stepped on my leg. Why is she doing this?! Did she had too much alcohol? Many thoughts passed by my mind but none of them stayed too long because the thought of getting away from her dominated everything in my conscience.

I tried to kick her away but she only caught my leg and yanked me to the other side, making me choke on my own blood. It smelled like iron, heavily equipped with the revolting taste of metal. A scream erupted from my throat as she continued to push down on my leg harder, laughing vehemently.

"That's right, cry some more bitch." She said maliciously, grabbing my hair up together with my body, "Cry like the fucking man you are. Your voice sounds like your useless, fucking father. Why don't you let me hear it more?"

After that was a whole horde of torture I'd rather not relish to myself again. My father left her with another woman after deciding she was insane. I was only fourteen at that time and I couldn't really understand what he meant with it. From my memories before then, she was always smiling and was very hardworking. I respected her and she treated me kindly because I was her own son.

Maybe she was too attached for my father's liking. A bit too obsessed with their relationship. Desperate, even. She thought if he was away too long, he would snag another woman. I remember her calling my father in the midnight when he's away on a business trip, asking who he's with, are you flirting with another woman, why aren't you calling me, why aren't you home yet, when are you coming home? Questions like that are surely going to drive another human being insane.

So he left and my mother is reverted to the state she is right now.

I still believed that my mother was still hurt, even after all on what she did to me. She just didn't know how to cope up with the feelings she had back then. But it took a toll on me when she started to tie me up and make me eat up dirty, used clothes while she hit me. She didn't want me screaming now because she got fed up with it. She made me believe that my voice was cursed, like it was the most horrible thing in the world to have. And I did, eventually.

She didn't want me to speak at all when I was at home. I did the chores perfectly and made a clean, pristine environment before she got home. When she comes back, I usually made food for her and remain hungry the whole time, staying on the other side of the table. She tried baiting me once, asking me how school was and I was sure ecstatic to know that maybe my mother was changing. It was finally happening.

When I was about to tell her that I made friends with Gilbert and Francis, she spit out the water she drank from the cup to me. She looked at me repulsively and said, "Didn't I fucking tell you that your voice is disgusting? Didn't I tell you to always shut the fuck up?"

Then, she laughed again, standing up from the chair and reached for my chin. She held it up sharply and started to pet my hair. It made my skin crawl and I accidentally moved my head away. Bad move though. I was expecting her to hit me but she only narrowed her green eyes on me and sneered.

"You stupid little ingrate. You look like your father, pathetic and useless. He didn't know that I loved him the most. Because, oh no, I fucking do. And he's coming back. I know it. He's going to because he'll realize that the bitch he's with doesn't love him like I do."

She tugged on my hair harshly and slammed my head down on the table. I squeezed my eyes shut as the pain assailed my head and left me to mutter incomprehensible words. I pushed back the tears threatening to fall under my eyelids and swallowed.

"And to think that you believed me?" She mused, mocking me in disbelief. "Why would I even waste my time hearing your stories? Did you even think I'll be interested in _your_ life? The only good thing about you is your green eyes, hmnn? Something you got from me? Be fucking thankful, brat!"

After that, I refused to speak at home even when she taunted me. It started to grow on me, the fact that my voice is disgusting. Because it is. It's disgusting and I'm a fucking disgusting human being. Mostly because of her bad drinking habits, I was soon transferred to a less expensive school because we didn't have enough money to pay for my bills. I lost contact with my friends too, like Gilbert and Francis.

I decided to detach myself from everyone, thinking that making friends was useless. It was easier, that way I won't talk and I wouldn't be bothered. I would be alone and no one would get hurt. Instead, I devoted every second of my free time in expressing what I feel on a sheet of paper.

I managed to hide the wounds and bruises I got from the foundation I stole from my mother's bag but the broken bones weren't that easy to hide. Even my mother was sensible enough to send me to the hospital, reasoning that I fell on the stairs. I didn't tell the truth and let her lie. I didn't have enough energy to and I was giving up on living a normal life.

The nurse at my school told me it was speech-phobic mutism and was quite rare nowadays. There isn't a cure for it but there is this thing called, 'speech therapy' that can help me push back to who I was before. I didn't take my chance on it. I didn't have enough money on me and I was pretty sure that my mother won't use her money on something as useless as that. She would even let me die on the roads, if she could.

The only thing that kept my insanity was the words written on my wrists.

In our world, everything happens for a reason. Everyone has this scribbled phrases on their wrists. My parents told me a long time ago that it was a proof that my other half was somewhere in the universe and I just have to find that person. It actually wasn't the ideal sentences I'd like to hear. The hints written there were 'Watch it, shitface' and 'Did you fucking follow me?'. They were rude and arrogant but maybe that person just uses harsh words as a sort of defense mechanism. But it was still precious to me and I believed that I would see that person in the future.

So when I first met my soulmate, I was both horrified and ecstatic.

Maybe it was because half of me didn't believe that my soulmate was true. Maybe it was just a mistake and the guy above was just messing around with me. And the other half was me feeling extremely overwhelmed by the fact that I've already seen him.

And I'm not going to let him away.

Not like this.

Not when he showed up when I was losing hope in life.

The day I met him was when my mother had a funeral.

She never got out of her drinking habits, even when I left the household as soon as I finished high school. It's been nine years since I saw her and the guy in heaven sure had a roundabout way to make me feel lonely about the entire thing.

Just when my life was getting better, she destroyed it again whether she was physically there or not. I was a terrible son, just as she is a terrible mother. I thought I shouldn't feel guilty about it. I honestly thought she deserved to die. After all, she made my childhood a living hell. Even as a full-pledged adult, I still had nightmares about it. And yet, I stood in front of her coffin and cried.

She died because of liver cancer. She died because everyone gave up on her. First it was my dad and the next is her son. I didn't think about her feelings at all when I left. She must have been feeling depressed. No, she was already at the verge of dying when my father got a divorce with her. I shouldn't have left her, is what I thought at the funeral. But I didn't want to apologize for a decision that I've considered for years.

The funeral finished early and I wanted to go out of there as soon as I could. So I did and I wandered across the streets for a while. Sometimes I wondered why the world was unfair. Everyone had a pretty normal life. They had loving parents, had a roof above their heads and they most definitely not experienced the things I had in childhood. She may have left the world but the scars remained. The memories remained.

I couldn't sleep that much ever since. If I were lucky, I would've had at least three hours of sleep at best. The rest of the night was spent on thinking about stupid things.

Maybe it was better to end it, that way I won't feel anything anymore. I wouldn't have my agents telling me that my paintings aren't selling or it wasn't up to their expectations. I wouldn't have to deal with my father checking up on me when he left us to escape from reality. That's bullshit, and we all know that. Why should he wait for eleven years to call to his twenty-six year old son just to check if he was okay? He didn't even respond once when I asked him for help. I always hoped that I would see his figure every time I look out at the window or every time I went out. It soon died out after a few weeks though. I realized that he wasn't coming. My childhood stopped the day I stopped wishing for things to get better. I stopped taking comfort in those childish prayers that won't ever come true.

And most importantly, if I died, I wouldn't have to bear with this excruciatingly painful loneliness I had to deal with almost every day. It's as if every time I see people together, it reminds me how isolated I am from the rest of the world.

The day I met Lovino Vargas was the day my life came bursting out in colors.

The personality I kept hidden for a long time suddenly came out of its closet. I figured it was because I had something to finally smile for.

I had a problem though.

I gave up on talking nine years ago. I relished in the comfort of silence, thinking that it was suited for someone repulsive like me. This might have been the first time I regretted making that choice.

I willed myself to speak but nothing came out of my mouth. It must be because it's been so long since I last used my vocal chords, that I have already forgotten how to use it. I was feeling frustrated about it but I didn't want it to end like this.

I decided to take up on the most convenient alternative.

I chased after him and after a few arguments from him, I managed to convince him to have dinner with me. We got to talking. I told him everything I could, Madrid, me being an only child, my profession and many other things that were quite general about me. I couldn't tell him the 'special' treatment my mother did to me.

At least not yet. I wanted to confirm if he truly was my soulmate by asking him to kiss me. If we were really meant to be, he would have known by now. The immediate pulsing of your heartbeat, the hints from our wrists and the electricity sparking every time our eyes met.

He exceeded my expectations and dived right into me as I savored his lips, soft and tender; just as how I imagined it would be. It only lasted for a moment though, he backed away from me and fell on the floor. I was about to help him up and ask him what's wrong when he started crying.

I was lost, confused and irritated at myself. Was I going too fast? Was my kiss not good enough for him? Was it because it was me?

 _It's because you're disgusting._

I fought back the churn lunging at my stomach and swallowed it down. I was about to go on the floor to calm him down when he suddenly patted my head. I looked down on him, obviously perplexed by the sudden affection he's giving me.

He was still crying and he was looking at me past those blurry innuendos, touching me as if to confirm if I was still there. It ached me to see him like this. I realized that his heart was also seeking for a person to accept him who he truly was.

I took a peek at his wrist and saw that there was absolutely nothing written on it. I was horrified. The hints on my wrists was definitely Lovino. I couldn't have mistaken that phrases for anyone.

But then it came to me that it must have been because I was a victim of elective mutism.

And I know that I could change it.


End file.
